Aspiring Novelist Pt. 04

We jump now to when it was time to go to college. Damn, another tough year behind us and in the middle of another and there was just enough surplus bank loan to send one of us to college. My brother wanted to study engineering and I just wanted to write so I said my brother goes to college. I was sent to my aunt in Pennsylvania. But I had a great thought on the train and left it at Forth Worth and booked into a dirt-cheap hotel and then took to the streets. I thought I'd work as a street prostitute until I had heaps of money that I could send to mom and dad to save the farm.

Fortunately for me an undercover policewoman spotted skinny me in a cheap cotton dress attempting to flag down rich-looking businessmen who either ran away or spat at me in contempt. That was my first meeting of a heroine, apart from mum. Policewoman Sarah Lynch presented her ID and I asked was I booked. She said probably and asked me what was I doing. I explained my parents' plight and said I was trying to save the ranch. Well she had hysterics and then said if I caught a judge on the right day he would probably let me off for the novelty of my excuse. She paid for my meal and then went with me to gather my things and put me on the next train north.

I did say fortunately that policewoman discovered me attempting to lure my first man. I would not have been a good prostitute because sex once or twice a day is usually enough for me.

The audience laughed.

Sarah Lynch, wherever you are today, I salute you.

The applause was deafening.

You know I don't create much beyond dialogue when I write. Mostly I gather in things I've experienced or heard people talk about. Oh there is a notable exception to that. The robust sex I inject into my novels is plain fiction. I'm not all that experienced as I'm only twenty-six.

My Aunt and Uncle in Philly were tremendously generous to me and put me through Penn University when I gained a Masters in Literature dash Writing. In my sophomore year I had a short story published and I feel to the floor gaping for oxygen after an influential wrote this:

'The belligerent and hard-drinking, womanizing former seafarer Captain Wiltshire, who was only five foot three inches tall and who became a hugely successful importer of spices and whisky, is a character depicted so graphically that he almost appears to come out of the pages at the reader. Young author Billie Summers, in her second-year of literary studies, has the signs of another young giant emerging from Penn University. This girl has raw talent.'

That didn't swell my head but it did give me huge belief in myself that from that day has never faltered.

The son of a New York publisher came to Philly to visit his grandmother and read that critic so he signed me up to convert that short story into a book and I hit him for an advance. He said if I promised to deliver he'd authorize an advance of ten grand. I told him how I wanted to help mom and dad reduce their bank loan and the soft guy advanced me thirty grand, risking his father kicking his butt.

Well my first novel about that sea captain who came ashore, 'Swashbuckling Business Tycoon', sold well, returning my publish its investment in me many times other. Interestingly that generous risk-taking guy Sam Sorenson, also a graduate of Penn, is today is chairman of the publishing company and the company expects my new book, due out any day now, will be a red hot winner for them. And yes, I sent that thirty grand to mom and dad and when they finally had two good years in a row they sold the ranch and gave me my money back, doubling it. They now are living happily in town in Texas.

Being a Texas girl I've always told it how it is and so when being interviewed on TV with that great Texan lady and beautiful writer Celeste B. Bush and I was asked did I ride horses, I said no I was scared of horses. Dear me what a boatload of crap people tried to heap on my and if Celeste hadn't said she was a bit scared of them I'm sure I would have been thrown out of Texas.

I was embarrassed, not for what I said because that was the truth, but for giving horses what is traditionally known as 'a bad press.' I remembered what dad would have said in that situation: you have been a bad girl Billie; please do something to show you are good.

Months later, four months later to be exact, a real lovely guy called me who goes by the name of Ben Aspen. He's a horse breeder near one of those American towns that has a great name, Sunset. It lies about midway between Fort Worth and Wichita Falls. Great names eh. With names and setting like that it's impossible not to be ignited as a writer. Mind you, I'll also say the same about names like Rapid City, Spearfish, Clearwater, Minnekahta Junction and one of my really big favorites, Deadwood. Perhaps that tells you why I'm here. Actually I came here because I'd been jilted before the romance was consummated but that sort of thing can happen. So why South Dakota? Well I was in Dallas, crying and deciding to change my ticket. I looked up and saw a poster promoting Sioux Falls and the uniqueness of that name hit me like a bullet. So here I am after moving from there to Rapid City because why? Oh another name... the Black Hills of Dakota.

There was huge applause.

Billie then spoke about her time on the ranch with Ben and his extended family and then moving to the southern Texas Coast and then on to Rapid City.

Nancy then invited questions.

"Who jilted you?"

"I'll never reveal that."

"How can you be scared about horses but yet apparently have written about them well enough for pundits to suggest your upcoming novel 'Horsewoman' be make the best selling list."

"Well I'm not into predicting sales numbers but I as my own critic I can say it's the best book I've written and a really beautiful, heart-warming story. It all began when Ben Aspen introduced me to a fantastic, loving horse called Little Lady."

"How can a horse be described as loving?"

"You might prefer calling it affectionate. I felt something so I call it loving. I'm sure horse lovers and other animal lovers will know what I'm on about."

"Applause."

"Will you attempt to write the Great American Novel?"

"No, it's probably been written already with perhaps a dozen contenders to choose from."

"What is your favorite novel?"

"Wuthering Heights, Emily Bronte's only novel. Perhaps that got to me at a very impressionable age although I must say I truly think Heathcliff is one of the best characterizations I've come across."

A stern-faced woman said, "You said Emily Bronte wrote only one novel. I've read others."

"Sorry but I'm correct in saying she had only one novel published. She was a poet. Perhaps you are confused by her sister's Charlotte's novels or those of another sister Anne?"

"Charlotte had only one novel published," someone called.

"Do you have a great novel in you?"

"I think so."

Nancy said she'd take one more question and smiling chose Amelia Meade.

"You live in my house Billie and eat with my husband and me and you talk to me several times a day and yet you have told me nothing about the novel you are planning."

"Well Amelia usually I don't talk to people about work in progress but I'll say this: it will be a warm and uplifting novel set in the Black Hills and the working title is 'Fading Days'. I've begun my research but have yet to begin planning."

Most of the 800 people rose to deliver prolonged applauded.

As soon as stepped off-stage local media people seeking interviews confronted her. She made them wait while she met people from the audiences waiting to speak to her.

Next morning before breakfast Billie wrote a proposal for her new novel she called 'Fading Days' believing that was a stronger title than the original intent of calling it Fading Times, reasoning that days had an more immediate term than times. She made no mention of it being a working title. She outlined the characters and plot and summarized twelve chapters off the top of her head. She'd noted whenever she deviated from the original proposal no one from publishing ever said anything, presumably because like Billie they considered the deviation to be superior.

Harry arrived with coffee grinning and holding the newspaper.

"Lovely photo."

"Omigod I have a tit half hanging out."

Harry alleged he'd only noticed the pretty face.

The interview appeared accurate and on another page Billie found quite a long account of her chat to the meeting; the bit about her posing as a prostitute was not mentioned, thank god.

As they sat for breakfast Amelia said, "That's a very becoming photo of your breast and rather good of you overall."

Harry winked at Billie.

The director called at 9:30 and said the light was good. They were setting up in Quincy Street outside the Public Library and could Billie come to them now. Billie said she'd be there inside 15 minutes.

It was a tiring day because their broke the interview into segments and filmed in seven different locations to add wider appeal to the interview.

"We've come here from Chicago so had to make a real effort to get it looking good," one of the camera operators told Billie.

They had lunch brought to them in a caterer's van. They were a good crew and the director was particularly pleasant saying the filming would be edited down to run for twenty-five minutes that would include one ad break.

The presenter was rather curt on camera and that probably was her style. Before moving to location for filming at sunset, during filming at Dinosaur Park Glenys pointed at the huge concrete creations from the 1930s now painted bright green with white underbellies and asked, "What do you as an novelist think of these monstrosities?"

"Well the children appear to really enjoy them and I guess from that perspective it's good. It's a bit like asking me why do I like Monet's work but not Dali's or why would I seek to find a Rubens hanging but not bother with a Picasso."

"Why don't you like the works of Dali and Picasso?"

"It's just what appeals to my eye and overall appreciation, from my perspective. You understand me, don't you, that no one can tell me what to like and no doubt you are the same?"

"Well yes although I can't say I've had a perspective on art put to me quite like that before."

"I apologize."

"No please don't apologize. I'm finding you think with some originality."

As the crew were packing up, the director took the presenter Glenys and Billie to a nearby bar, telling the crew she'd join them back at the hotel.

Just before 8:00 Billie called Walton and said they had just finished. He said he'd come for her and said he was driving a white Mustang and would wait outside.

Walton took Billie to his apartment to shower. She waited for him to come in for a grope but he stayed well clear. She dried, did her hair and climbed into bed.

"Can a girl get a drink in this place?"

She heard Walton go into the bathroom and then he appeared in the bedroom carrying a bottle of wine and too glasses. His jaw dropped when he saw Billie sitting up, completely nude above the sheet covering her legs.

"You aren't required to be dressed in bed," she smiled.

"What do I do with these?" Walton said, now staring at the bottle and glasses, acting if he'd lost the power of positive thinking.

"Give them to me. I'll pour while you rip off your clothes."

"Jesus this is a novelty for me," he said. "I thought I'd have to butter you up all night to get this far."

"No I'm easy providing the guy really appeals to me. Aren't you lucky."

"That's for sure."

Billie licked her lips at the sight of the fat swinging dick. She wanted to say 'Hurry, hurry, fuck me'.

Instead she handed Walton his glass as he settled into bed and said sweetly, "This is really nice wine."

After Walton settled in with his shoulders between her legs, Billie began fiddling with his ears. After a while he took a brief break to look up and murmur it was great to find her participating and he appeared confused when she said that was confirmation it worked but her did no ask her to explain that comment.

Walton used his fingers expertly to bring the red-faced and gasping Billie to a writhing climax and then he kissed her and explored the front of her body minutely, kiss-by-kiss until she whined she wanted him inside her.

They had a mutual explosive finish, a little mistimed, to end their inaugural fuck and then cleaned up and went out to dinner and found themselves behaving rather romantically.

There was one tiny blip. Over a glass of red wine, Walton leaned forward and said earnestly, "I loved the way you tasted." Caught unexpectedly by that confession Billie chocked on her wine and splattered the front of Walton's shirt and instead of reacting badly perhaps like some guys would and saying "You stupid bitch" he dabbed his shirtfront, smiled and said, "I see I can tickle your humor."

Billie thought humor? She's been aghast that he'd speak to her like that in a crowded restaurant and had been shocked he hadn't whispered.

But everything was fine and they went back to the apartment where Billie received the best 'doggie' she'd ever had in the eight years she'd been sexually activity, mainly because Walton kept busy attempting to really arouse her. She was pleased he was such a good lover and decided he could do anything to her he wanted.

Billie was back home by 9:30 next morning to find Harry and Amelia were out, probably gone to one of the malls to have coffee with friends. She settled down in front of her laptop and began working to revise her opening for 'Fading Days' she'd written as part of her proposal...

The boarded up storefronts of one-third of the stores of Griffin (population 905 and declining) made Claire Armstrong think of cobwebs, moss and a plague of rodents.

Ugh.

Claire was angry. The damn real estate agent in Rapid City had told her she'd find cheap housing in the thriving long-established settlement of Griffin, named after Charlie Griffin.

In early 1875 the enterprising grocer had been heading for one of the gold fields when the rear left-hand wheel of his horse-drawn wagon collapsed. Undeterred Charlie figured gold-seekers coming in from the south and perhaps some from the west taking the easier route would come this way and would trade with him. So he worked to prop up his wagon and erected a notice 'Griffin, Population 1' and then uncovered his wares. Waiting for someone -- anyone -- to approached, he lit his pipe wondered if he could entice one of the camp-following women of ill repute passing by to stay and thereby increase Griffin's population to two and then increase it further through successive pregnancies.

Claire wondered which was Charlie's store. Most looked well over 100 years old.

A huge rat chased by a cat ran in front of Claire's battered Japanese car. She shrieked, pulled the wheel away from the rat and unintentionally hit the gas pedal. Her car inconsiderately mounted the boardwalk with a huge thump, breaking the rear axel, and crashed through a storefront, fortunately one of the abandoned premises. Claire was knocked unconscious by a board that crashed through the windscreen.

A woman witness screamed and people out of nowhere came running.

Billie read that piece and smiled. It graphically painted the unpromising arrival in Griffin (population 901 because another family had left that morning) for the woman who with the enterprise of the town's founder Charlie Griffin, would lead the fight to arrest Griffin's slide toward full conversion into Ghost Town status. Claire and friends would establish massage parlors along Griffin Way (formerly High Street) where Sunday drivers stopping for light relief would receive a massage or anything else they required. On other days men and woman resident in the Black Hills would appear from nowhere to take advantage of the discount rates for the various services on offer. Designers and artisans tired of the bustle and hassle of city life would be attracted to establish boutiques and outlet stores and even marketing cooperatives and the future of Griffin would be assured and Claire would be attracted to an attorney who would be elected as Giffin's new mayor and they would married and increase the town's population.

It's a bit too pat but has Cinderella content that ought to soften any criticism and she would inject the necessary antagonism. It would be a novel bound to satisfy American patriotism and interest in history, traditions and lifestyles she thought without any attempt to perform hard-nosed analysis.

Billie received the ten customary complimentary copies of 'Horsewoman' plus the thirty-eight discounted copies she'd pre-ordered, and that of course told her the presses were running. She began receiving requests via Jane at Under the Tree marketing to visit various major on-setters to appear in their stores to sign copies of her book for people keen to purchased signed copies and to be photographed with the author. Speaking engagement began coming in including addressing horse breeder and horse rider associations. Billie demanded appearance payment and received it... no problem. She was a celebrity. TV appearances followed and she began talking about her new book and became too annoyed with the interviews asking the question, 'Do you think a book like that will sell?' to worry about the consistency of that question.

All the time Billie spend as much time as possible working on 'Fading Days.' No one at Under the Tree Publishing questioned the working title that became the project title because, it seemed, everyone considered Billie had the 'nose and ear' for doing the right thing.

Fortunately Jocelyn Winter the executive editor agreed with Ellen the commissioning editor to adopt a conservative printing schedule. At least they sensed this was a book that could 'bomb'. Print-runs spaced apart of 50,000 and thereafter 30,000 runs were scheduled. Plans to emphasize hot author Billie Summers next book were modified downwards to state a new book by Billie Summers.

Meanwhile at a board meeting of the dealership held when Harry and Glenda were in Los Angeles at Harry's only niece's wedding, some board members became highly critical of Walton for maintaining a large inventory of pre-owned cards and not cutting back to minimum quotas levels for new vehicles in the market taking a slide with yet another hiccup in the national economy. Harry's deputy was in the chair and annoyed at Walton's comment that he was running the business and not the board resulted in Malcolm McCrone mounting a personal attack on Walton. The situation became very heated and Walton said he would resign. "Accepted," Malcolm shouted. "Leave the meeting now and write it out pronto."

"Up your left nostril you short-ass Philistine. I'll decide when I'll write out my notice, not you but I'm leaving now."

"You're fired you insolent dog."

"Oh that's fine. Now I can sue the company for unjustified dismissal."

Thinking on his feet Malcolm shouted, "I withdraw my intention to fire you" and enraged through a water jug at Walton who managed to duck and it smashed into the glass front of the cabinet of the awards won by dealership personnel and the company itself over the years.

Harry rushed back from Los Angeles the next day and ripped into Malcolm for exceeding his authority as deputy chairman. At the Malcolm resigned.

Harry went into Walton's office and said he would be ripping up Walton's resignation, that he'd accepted Malcolm McCrone's resignation instead.

"No just accept it dad that I'm leaving. I wished granddad have never converted the company into a public company. I preferred working here under the family umbrella. I have money stashed away so will look to buy a small dealership that has growth potential but not here, not in competition with you."